O'Neill's Humming, Chosen Hearts Series S7
by HDorothy
Summary: After the generous feedback on, ‘Carter’s Humming’ I took a chance and wondered, Hey, what if Jack started humming?


Title: O'Neill's Humming - Chosen Hearts Series - S7 - 718

Author: HDorothy aka HailDorothy

Season: 7

Spoilers: 711-712 Evolution I & II, 713 Grace, 715 Chimera, 716 Death Knell, 717 & 718 Heroes I & II

Rating: K

Warning: Pure S/J! Usual SG-1 language

Pairing: S/J Friendship, Comfort, Romance, Angst, humor

POV: Samantha Carter

Story Summary: I hadn't planned on this, but after the generous feedback on, _'Carter's Humming'_ I took a chance. It's Sam's POV and not script formatted. Hopefully written to canon, and for all the shippers who impatiently await a romantic conclusion to Sam and Jack's wannabe lovers' relationship.  
Archived: Jackfic, GateWorld, Heliopolis, SamandJack, Fan Fiction, My site, just ask.

File size: 80KB

Side note: If you're expecting anything like _'Carter's Humming'_ with Jack's characteristic blunt introspection, you don't know Samantha Carter. She's the one who thinks too much. Also, dumb Pete doesn't like Gene Kelly. Huh, guess who does?

Series Summary: This is an established storyline in which Jack and Sam fell in love during Jack's retirement. When Jack is re-commissioned and Sam inadvertently assigned his subordinate, they pretend to be strangers and put their wannabe lovers relationship on hold. Little do they realize it will not be a matter of months, but years, before they can follow through on the desire of their chosen hearts.

Beta thanks: To Carol Sue for her critical scrutiny, encouragement, and a shared faith in the Keeper of the Stars.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s). HailDorothy © 2004

Again all comments, whether negative or positive are welcome. Foul language will not be tolerated, unless you're Jack.

_**Monday: 0645 Hours**_

You're alone on the elevator with him. Awkward? Yes. You've got 21 floors together, possibly alone. This is your first moment with him since he came back from that three-day weekend at his cabin. And yes, he asked you, again. And yes, you said, no again. _You not only missed him, you're an idiot, Carter! _The only positive note was he'd taken Cassie. You're about to make small talk when your breath hitches in your throat. Colonel O'Neill's . . .

"Humming, sir?"

"Yeah." He smirks, does his heel-to-toe bounce and continues to drone a melody you should know, but don't. What you know is the colonel's one happy camper and your immediate reaction is a bad case of acid reflux.

O'Neill's got a girlfriend!

For the first time in your analytical life you refuse to accept the obvious. Instead, your mind trips back to the dreadful Alpha site incident two months ago. You'd believed you were going die. Your only prayer had been that Jack would come for you. He did. You will never forget the relief in his deep brown eyes when he found you wounded, bleeding, but breathing. Still it had been a strained reunion. Exhausted, dehydrated and injured you were about to go into shock. You just needed to rest a moment, catch your breath before becoming his kick-butt 2IC again.

You were surprised when the colonel sat down beside you and said that one intimate word, "C'mere." Looking straight ahead, he slipped his strong arm around your quaking shoulders and pulled you into him.

When you felt the tremor in his touch and the deliberate squeeze of his long fingers you sensed more than platonic reassurance from your CO. With that pivotal event you knew he still cared far more than he should. When you nestled your head on his comforting shoulder you knew that Jack O'Neill was the only man you'd ever love.

Since then, he's been smiling more and telling jokes— again. In fact, you think he is trying to see how long it takes to get you to laugh at him. He drops by your lab, tinkers with your sensitive equipment and hangs around until you evict him so you can work. You share meals and argue the relativity of The Simpsons or blue Jell-O versus red Jell-O. You enjoy talking and laughing over what is insignificant to others, but important to each other. You talk wormhole theories and classic motorcycles. He talks astronomy, gardening and fishing. Yeah, it works. He brings you cake—again.

And more often of late, a lazy brown gaze collides with an intense blue one until someone, usually you, breaks the passion charged contact. Meanwhile, you're encouraged with the renewed bond of intimate friendship. It's a small step, but it's progress. Yep, there's a definite bounce in the O'Neill step, and you have the audacity to assume you are the reason. Well, Samantha Jean Carter, you're an absolute, lovesick geek, because he's . . .

"Still humming?"

"Sorry." He clams up and dons his boyish smile that disables all rational thinking on your behalf.

You swear you just rear-ended the Stargate's Iris and are now a nasty mass of molecules on the other side of the wormhole.

"No, by all means hum away, sir." Gosh, that's familiar. And if he weren't so off key, you'd probably recognize it.

So what was that line of crap he'd pulled on you Friday afternoon? Just before he'd left to pickup Cassandra, he looked you dead on and asked, "Hey, Carter, we still okay?"

He'd been on a crowded elevator while you stood outside it staring across at him, wondering if you'd heard what you'd heard, especially his personal Jack voice. Okay? The single most important word you'd ever shared together. Okay, secretly meant, I love you, Sam. I love you, Jack. The word _okay_, had bonded your wannabe lovers' relationship all these years. _Okay_ had rarely been spoken by either of you since Daniel's ascension, let alone the word,_ always_. Well, not until you'd gone to his infirmary room after he'd been shot three weeks ago.

Back to the elevator incident. By the time you'd found your voice the elevator door shut. And then Jack was gone. And now he's here . . .

Humming.

"Anyone I know?" _Gee whiz what'd you ask that for? _

"Ah . . . huh." He jams his fidgeting hands into his pockets while the dimples on either side of his mouth broaden with a self-satisfied smirk.

When your CO fails to expound, you count off the list of endangered species, um . . . suspects. The pretty bartender at O'Malley's, his widowed 30ish neighbor um, Joan somebody, or maybe someone from Minnesota? There are other prospects. Each one evokes the foulest of emotions, jealousy. Not to mention the tip of your nose is a-flame and that hot flush slithering its way up your neck and beyond.

"Known her long?" _Did you ask that?_

"Sorta."

_What kind of answer is _s_orta? Yeah and the Asgard sorta eat cheesecake! What is this, the 'I've Got a Secret,' TV game show? _

"Earth to Carter."

Huh? Oh! Hands clasped behind your back, you peek up from the shield of your lashes still wondering, who the hussy is. You exhaled a frustrated sigh and watch his eyebrows almost disappear into his silver hairline.

"For crying out loud, Major, stop thinking so hard. It's not like I'm that complex. After another weekend of mindless fishing but with Cassie's relentless nagging, 'Get a life, Dad!' I've decided to take my own advice and get one." And — he's humming — again!

"With all due respect, sir, you could at least share her name."

"A ah." He holds up his hand and his mouth flattens like a thin pancake.

Well, that squelches any future fishing invites. Bitterly, you conclude this is heaven's revenge for all the times you stomped on this loud, bull-headed, exasperating, gruff, tenderhearted and adorable Irishman's heart.

"Besides I gave you a hint." He looks over and waggles his gorgeous dark brows.

Which makes your hormones take inventory. Man, he looks hot in his blue BDU button-down and black tee shirt. Your unsubtle gaze drifts to his short tufted gray hair, that your fingers itch to slick back into place. The shadow of his beard is a dark contrast against his tanned weathered features. And that sexy scar on his left eyebrow—Wow! He's clueless how age has made him more attractive, more desirable, just one of many naive traits that stole your heart. Then it registers . . .

_Hint?_

"Sir, I'm not into name games or twenty questions." _You can't wait to talk to Cassandra. If anyone knows the scoop, she will._

"Your loss, Carter." Humming, he pulls out his yoyo and _'Rocks the Cradle.' _

"So you've said . . .Ah, serious?"

"For me? Oh, yeah." His face scrunches with concentration as he _'Walks the Dog.'_ Before he looks at you with his starched expression . . .

Waiting your response.

"Well that's great." _Not! So, why not tell him? Because . . ._

_You can't. _

_Won't. _

_Don't know how._

_Now. _

_Geez!_

"Really?" You catch the trademark O'Neill grimace. He snaps up the yoyo, drops it in his pocket, and breaks your precious eye contact, leans one hand against door jam and stares at the flashing floor counter.

Man, you hate this. Of all the crap that has gone down between you two over the years, those intimate gazes no matter how sparse were your last thread of hope. Long steady gazes that had expressed what neither had been allowed to say in public.

"Then it's not great?" you ask as your voice cracks.

_Say no!_

"It'll be _'excellent'_ once she figures it out." _Is his tone ambivalent, optimistic?_

"So it's humworthy, sir?"_ Gee, you can't believe you used his lamebrain line._

"Yeah sure yabetcha." His jaw works, his lips twitch and those delicious dimples tuck deeper.

Self-preservation kicks in. Stepping back, you cross your arms and scowl at the door. Holy Hannah, the colonel has a girlfriend! And it's serious! It's been six years since he's dated, at least that you know about. Even then . . .it had been you. Still, it's been at least that long before you started to date Pete.

Ouch! That's a sore area you hope to never revisit. A physically driven relationship that lasted three weeks after Pete got wounded, saving your hide at Daniel's stakeout. Oh, you're still seeing each other. However, since your deadly encounter with Anubis' drone and nearly losing Jack to that staff weapon blow, your feelings for Pete have faded. Who, by the way, is not dealing well with your no more sex mandate. And he still demands to know everything he's not supposed to know about your job. Man, give the cop a nibble and he wants the whole enchilada. His true colors are showing especially when he talks about Jack. Yeah, Pete Shanahan's a pale comparison to this man who trusts and respects you, this man you really love.

_You have to cut Pete's leash, Carter. So why haven't you? Because you need something concrete from your wannabe lover. Your analytical mind insists you'll know it when you see or hear it. Speak of the devil. He's still humming. Blast his Irish assets! And what is that freaking song!_

"Wanna a hint or not, Carter?" You know that whine.

He sniffs.

He's annoyed.

So is he peeved because you won't play his silly, cruel-hearted, name game? Well, you're not just peeved you're desperate. With your heart in overdrive you cave in.

"Fine," you mutter, with about as much enthusiasm as when you had discovered you'd been possessed by a symbiote.

When the elevator's door slides open, he steps out. Desperate, you lean on the hold button. "The hint, sir?" _Good golly, Carter, you're begging! _

A few feet away he halts and then turns to look at you. His hands stuffed in his pockets, his chocolate gaze penetrates yours with such intensity that you forget to breathe. And he totally blows your mind.

He winks.

Your emotions spiral out of control.

No!

You don't want to know.

You shake your head.

Raise a hand.

Too late.

"She loves Gene Kelly musicals, especially . . ." He turns and swaggers down the empty corridor, singing in perfect pitch, "I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain, what a glorious feeling I'm happy again . . ."

It takes five heartbeats for your head to catch up with your ears. A grin the size of Kansas splits across your face. You giggle like an immature schoolgirl and make a furtive effort to hide it. You know he hears you and he's smiling.

Then as if on cue, Colonel Jack O'Neill mimes Kelly's classic dance steps, jumping in and out of invisible rain puddles. Before you can react he skips around the corner and out of sight. You want to chase after him but your heart says no. Not yet. Not here. Besides your legs are wobbling like Jell-O. Why, you'd probably fall flat on your face.

You release the button and the doors shut. Trying to hum, you stagger back against the wall and clamp your hand over your mouth. But the sniggers burst free and you laugh until your sides ache. You feel like a teenager who's just learned that the boy you have a crush on, has a crush on you. Out of the blue, the biggest astronomical revelation of all bowls you over with insane joy.

Holy Hannah, Samantha Carter, you made Jack O'Neill hum!

Fin

Please read the next story of the Chosen Hearts series, **Going Ancient**.


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